


we destroy everything we need

by NotSoLocal



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: 7294873289471 differences from canon, Alcohol Addiction, All For The Game - Freeform, Andrew Minyard - Freeform, Angst, Anxiety, Author Is Sleep Deprived, But in the best way possible, Dark!Neil, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, I REGRET NOTHING, M/M, MMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAJJJJJJJJJJJOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRR AAAAAANNNNGGSTTTT, Mental Illnesses, Neil Josten - Freeform, Raven!Neil, Schizophrenia, Self-Harm, They get better, Wholesome Twinyards, Woke Up Gay, aaron is not an asshole, but there's a lot of angst, characterization is a prophetic dream, dark academia meets psu, everyone is VERY angsty, graphic description of feelings, its actually not that depressing, just kinda edgy and dark, major angst, neil/andrew - Freeform, no beta reading we die like men, okay aaron is kinda an asshole, the monsters kill seth in this one, this gets dark real fast, yeah love u bye
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-05-28 17:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19398781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSoLocal/pseuds/NotSoLocal
Summary: “This is a big bad world of wolves, Neil Josten, and you are a rabbit hiding in plain sight. Are you stupid, or do you want to be bitten so badly.”You blink. The intruder is closer. You count the freckles on his nose. His hair is too curly. His eyelashes are too long. “Not gonna lie, that’s also kinda kinky,” he murmurs. “You can bite me all you want, if you’re offering.”





	1. Fame, liquor, love, give it to me slowly

**Author's Note:**

> so, this is going to be pretty dark, so don't read if you don't like it.  
> most of the chapters will be from Andrew's or Neil's perspective, but there will be some from the other monster's points of view.  
> Warnings: mentions of blood, alcohol dependency, breaking bones (anything else just let me know)
> 
> credit to nora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _you got that medicine I need_  
>  _dope, shoot it up straight to the heart please_  
>  _I don't really know what's good for me_  
>  _god's dead, I said 'baby that's alright with me'_  
>  ~ Gods and Monsters by Lana Del Rey

The haunting memories of the nest are a dark cloud which follows him wherever he goes, he can still feel Riko’s furious gaze upon him, can still hear the snap of his own bones in Riko’s temper-tantrum. He puts on a brave front, doesn’t show that the voices are driving him crazy, that this dark cloud threatens to overwhelm him, to eat him alive, to rip him to shreds.

He feels like a hand is grabbing onto his mind, squeezing it, twisting it. On good days he wonders if he’ll ever get better again, wonders if he’ll ever stop seeing the black and red when he steps into an Exy court, but today isn’t a good day.

He clutches the bottle of cheap vodka in his fist – _heart disease, mouth cancer, stroke, throat cancer, liver disease, brain damage_ – and tilting his head back, he takes a swig.

The first sip is always the best; the alcohol temporarily – _temporarily_ – washes the nest out of his system, replacing the tendrils of darkness wrapping around his mind with a warm buzz. A fire is ignited in the pit of his stomach as the vodka hits the back of his throat, the flames spread throughout his body and burns out the darkness which flows deep in his veins.

_– temporarily –_

He gulps down the vodka as though it is his lifeline – _and perhaps it is_ – he is a desperate starved man who is eager to take in as much warmth as he can because he knows that it will soon slip away.

His head feels fuzzy; he tilts his head up to focus his gaze on the lights above him which are suddenly too bright. The lights are bright, artificial lights, the sun has abandoned him again, and he’s stopped believing in the outside. Bones snap, his dominant hand sears, there’s too much blood. The colours of heartbreak spill onto the Exy court. Exy has been tinted the colour red, a gift from Riko: the king will never let him get out alive.

The sweet smell of vodka brings him back to the present; he tightens his grip on the bottle and takes another long desperate gulp. Tears sting at the back of his eyes as he refuses to remove the bottle from his lips: he can still feel his hand searing; he can still smell the blood.

“Kevin?” Coach’s voice, reassuring and familiar. But Kevin can still feel Riko’s hand on his and he can’t put the bottle down.

Kevin shuts his eyes as he hears Coach walking into the room, concentrating solely upon drinking in the mouthfuls of vodka in a hopeless attempt to wash away Riko’s fingerprints from his skin.

“Kevin,” Coach’s voice is louder now, sharper. Kevin keeps his eyes shut, and doesn’t remove the bottle from his lips, he can’t look at Coach until he is free from Riko’s stains – _temporarily free from Riko’s stains_.

He feels a hand at the back of his neck and another one on the hand which is clutching the bottle, but he doesn’t open his eyes, he doesn’t look at Coach’s face, he’s still dirty.

“Kevin,” Coach’s voice is loud and gruff in his ear. “You can’t do this, we need to pick up your new striker today, remember?”

Yes, Kevin remembers, Neil Josten. The reason why him, Coach and Andrew had flown to Millport last night and are now stuck in some crappy hotel.

At last he lowers the bottom from his lips and blinks back tears as he looks into Coach’s steady eyes.

“I have to do this Coach,” his voice comes out strangled, desperate, pleading. He’s begging someone to tell him that he doesn’t need to do it; he’s begging someone to tell him that he’s clean. “I can’t go back,” he’s whispering, a beggars voice; the starving man’s plea.

He closes his eyes, dimly aware that Coach is walking away, and he doesn’t open them again until he feels something hit the back of his head, causing galaxies to explode behind his eyes. The pain is sharp and instant, he rushes to lift the bottle back to his mouth, he needs to get Riko out of his head.

But the pain comes again at the back of his head with a loud _thwack_ which causes the vodka to slip out of his grasp and he watches the bottle shatter on the ground as thoughts turn to ashes in his mind.

Riko is back, Riko is here, Riko is trying to kill him. He should never have tried to run from the king.

Another _thwack_ and he’s out, embracing the darkness like an old friend.

xxxx

The strings of consciousness anchor him and he is dimly aware that he is sat in a moving car, but his eyes refuse to open and his limbs refuse to move.

“Riko,” he whispers, voice helpless and rough.

“Nee-naw, guess again number 2,” Andrew’s cheerful voice is loud but reassuring. He’s not back in the nest; he’s not back with Riko.

Kevin flicks open one of his eyes to glance at Andrew, but immediately regrets it when the light causes a searing pain in his head. He keeps his eyes half-open, looking down, he’s aware of the car stopping, there are also voices. He can feel his legs carrying him out of the car, its dark: night time. How long was he out for?

“How did I pass out?” his voice is clearer now, slightly sleepy, but clearer.

In response Andrew throws his head back and laughs, Kevin sneaks a look at him and holds Andrew’s bright-eyed gaze, “Coach hit the back of your head with a racquet, said you were burning up your liver,” Andrew smiles, all teeth, and rocks on the balls of his feet, “don’t worry, number 2, I sorted it out.” He throws his head back and laughs again.

He and Andrew wait in a run-down lounge as Coach and goes off to talk to Neil Josten. He tunes out Andrew’s useless chatter and focuses on Exy, the bright lights, sweat pouring down his face, the sound of a racket hitting the ball. But the sound of racquets clashing against each other sounds too much like bones breaking and everything is tinted red.

“Ooh, look at this one!” Andrew exclaims cheerfully, the manic smile plastered on his face as he holds up a worn out yellow Exy racquet in his hands. “Hmmm, run rabbit, run!”

They both turn their heads to the door at the sound of sneakered feet against the dirty floors, fast footsteps. He’s running.

Andrew moves fast, slamming the Exy racquet into the runner’s gut and Neil Josten crashes backwards too easily. No strength, no endurance.

His vision swims at the sight of the dark-haired dark-eye mess, a fog passes over his mind, familiar and dangerous, but it slips away as fast as it comes.

He feels faraway as he registers Coach’s and Andrew’s voices garbled together, his attention fixed on the striker. He scans his mind for a Neil Josten, and as he looks the fog comes back again, but as he tries to clutch onto it it disappears without a trace.

“Fuck you,” Neil Josten’s voice isn’t familiar, but the fog comes back, but this time only for a split second before it vanishes again. “Whose racquet did you steal?” the question is directed at Andrew; Neil Josten hasn’t realized he’s in the room yet.

“Borrow,” Andrew replies, his smile unnerving as he tosses the racquet back at Neil, “here you go.”

_Riko’s voice in his ear, spiked with malice, “Here you go.” Fingers grab his own, twisting his hand, he hears the snap of bones, pain blinds him momentarily and –_

The pure terror, so familiar to him, in Neil Josten’s voice brings him back: “you didn’t bring him here.” Fear spikes his voice and Kevin gravitates towards him against his own will, he has heard the same fear in his own voice too many times, but he stops in his tracks as his eyes land on the discarded Exy racquet on the floor and his mind paints itself red. He backs away slowly and instead perches on top of the entertainment centre along the back wall.

“Is that a problem?” Coach asks, eyes fixed on Neil Josten.

“I’m not good enough to play on the same court as a champion.”

_“Champion,” Riko sneers, “wait till your fans see this, Number 2.”_

“True, but irrelevant,” he hears himself saying, but when Neil Josten turns around to look at him all he sees is the red stain of blood and love. His mind spins, he needs a drink, he needs to scrub himself clean.

“What are you doing here?” is his mind playing tricks on him or does Neil Josten actually sound so terrified. A drink would be good right now.

“Why were you leaving?”

“I asked you first.”

This is taking too long, he needs some alcohol, he can’t stand the colours Riko has painted for him. “Coach has already answered that question. We are waiting for you to sign the contract. Stop wasting our time.”

“No. There are thousands of strikers who’d jump at the chance to play with you. Why don’t you bother them?” Neil’s eyes are guarded and untrusting, but Kevin can only feel his head spinning.

“We saw their files. We chose you.”

“I won’t play with Kevin,” Neil’s voice is determined and sure.

_“Nobody will want you after this.” Too much blood._

“You will,” Kevin says, and he doesn’t know if he’s convincing Neil or himself.

He hears Coach’s voice, then his own, but stars are exploding behind his vision and he feels as though he is tumbling into an abyss of blood.

“Go wait in the car,” Coach tells him. he gathers his files and slides off the perch, trying his best not to stumble on his way out of the door.

He can feel Andrew’s presence behind him, he can see the blood and bones in front of him, he can’t walk into that hell, so he lets himself fall backwards into Andrew’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title credits go to a Gods and Monsters by Lana Del Rey


	2. Fucked my way up to the top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Neil's pov, his past is different and he has split personality disorder, a few details:  
> He has 22 different personalities, the main ones are:  
> Neil: in charge, talker, dark eyes and dark hair  
> Nathaniel: protector, only comes out when Neil is in danger, auburn hair and blue eyes, spitting image of Nathan.  
> Chris: runner, comes out when Neil is anxious and begins to run.  
> Stefan: hider, comes out when Neil is being followed or hunted.  
> Alex: liar, comes out when Neil needs to hide something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Life is awesome, I confess_  
>  _What I do, I do best_  
>  _You got nothing, I got tested_  
>  _And I'm best, yes_  
>  ~ Fucked My Way Up To The Top by Lana Del Rey

He squints up at the glaring lights: they look like white flames, ready to burn him to the ground at any moment. He tells himself he’s being overdramatic, but it doesn’t stop him from smelling the acrid stench of burning flesh and feeling ashes under his nails.

He walks past the elevator and down the staircase -

~~being in close quarters with too many people scares him~~

\- scanning the airport for any of the foxes. When he passes the lady with the pushchair, he pretends that the smell of her perfume ~~doesn’t make him sick~~ doesn’t remind him of his mother. When he brushes hands with the man with the briefcase, he pretends that he doesn’t lean into the touch, trying to make Nathaniel flinch ~~he pretends that the thought of a monster flinching doesn’t scare him~~.

He scans the small lobby and one of the Minyard twins makes eye contact with him. Judging by the lack of a manic smile, he assumes that it is Aaron Minyard, 05 backliner, previous addict – he didn’t go to any rehab facilities but apparently the drugs are out of his system – overall, he's not a threat (he pretends that the thought of danger doesn’t ~~terrify~~ excite him).

But he doesn’t look like he’s ‘not a threat’, not with his eyes slowly assessing everybody walking past, not with his carefully lazy stance, not with his intense glare.

“Neil,” he says. His voice is low and smooth, -

(“Careful,” Stefan whispers. “Don’t fall too hard too fast, remember what happened last time.”)

\- “Do you have your bags?” Minyard scans the duffle bag slung over Neil’s shoulder and raises an eyebrow.

“Just this,” he says, tapping the strap of the bag ~~he pretends that he doesn’t notice the way that Minyard’s eyes linger on his lips~~.

He follows Minyard out into the humid afternoon of sticky heat. He drinks in every movement the blond makes: the way he pulls the packet of cigarettes out of his back pocket, the way he lights a cigarette and sticks it between his lips before returning the packet back to his jeans. He is prepared to give control over to Nathaniel if Minyard tries to pull anything.

Minyard presses a button on his key chain which unlocks a gleaming black beast of a car –

(“Run, Neil,” Chris urges, his voice harsh and irritated. “Run, you know you can’t trust him.”

He’s tired of being treated like a child, tired of being secluded from the spotlight; he blocks out Chris’s demands, tilts his chin up and narrows his eyes. He is not going to lose Exy.)

\- Neil puts his bag in the trunk and slides into the passenger seat. Whilst watching Minyard smoke, he remembers something: Aaron doesn’t smoke, his files says that he hasn’t been near any addictive drugs for years, that he left it all behind in high school. He tilts his head backwards and waits for Minyard to finish his cigarette, wondering why Andrew would leave precious Kevin behind to come and pick him up.

He drops the cigarette when it is half-gone and reaches out to close the door ~~Neil pretends that being trapped in a vehicle with a stranger doesn’t terrify him, he pretends that it doesn’t almost make him give up control, that he doesn’t almost back out of the spotlight~~.

“Minyard,” he says softly, gazing lazily out of the window, “Andrew.”

He can feel Minyard’s tension ~~he pretends that he doesn’t love it~~ , he turns his head towards him and with his voice almost at a whisper he asks, “Can I have a cigarette?”

Minyard stares at him, his eyes sharp and calculating. He drops the box of cigarettes and a lighter into Neil’s lap.

“So I’ve heard that Seth’s been stuffing himself and everyone around him with drugs again,” Neil continues casually. “How’s your brother holding up?”

Minyard doesn’t say anything at first, he just keeps his eyes fixed on the road whilst Neil lights a cigarette and rolls the window down. Then it’s, “What about my brother?”

It’s surprising that Minyard didn’t go straight for the ‘who the hell are you?’, but not unpredictable. Neil takes his time taking a drag of his cigarette before answering.

“Well, he used to be a druggie, right?”

Apparently it wasn’t the right thing to say, judging by the miniscule twitch in Minyard’s jaw and the way his hands ever so slightly tighten around the steering wheel.

“Sorry,” Neil says, all faux concern and wide eyes, “was that offensive?”

Minyard gives him a sidelong glance before abruptly changing lanes without bothering to check the traffic around him.

(The sound of car horns blaring makes Stefan flinch: too much noise, too much attention.)

“Neil,” Minyard says, as though trying to figure out the taste of his name. “Neil Josten. Currently number 10 striker for Palmetto State Foxes, previously played Exy at high school in a small town called Millport: good enough to attract the attention of two professional athletes. The ravens tried to recruit you and you ended up disappearing for two months, only reappearing to continue to play at Millport. You have now accepted Kevin’s offer to recruit you, and you have come with full knowledge on each of the players’ history.”

Minyard’s face doesn’t change whilst he’s saying this, only his eyes, moving slowly from car to car – his voice is expressionless, almost bored ~~and Neil pretends that he doesn’t want to figure out how to keep Minyard’s interest~~.

“Neil Josten,” Minyard repeats. “Number 10. Striker. Runaway. Involved in the Japanese mafia. Has serious connections.”

Neil feels his mouth go dry, the word ‘runaway’ echoes in his head like a war siren. _Runaway_. That’s all he has been for so long, but he’s been ready to change, he’s been ready to hide it.

~~Of course it had to be the most interesting of the foxes who found out his secret~~.

“What are you doing here, runner?” Minyard asks. “What do you want from me?”

Neil pretends that he doesn’t realize how effortlessly Minyard has switched the positions. He pretends that he doesn’t realize that he’ll have to trust Minyard more than he thinks he is able to for what he is going to do next. ~~He pretends that he doesn’t want to be able to trust Minyard; he pretends that he doesn’t want Minyard to be able to trust him.~~

“Seth,” Neil says, his voice is almost at a whisper. “I’ve been ordered to deal with him; he knows things that he shouldn’t know about regarding certain people, powerful people.”

Minyard doesn’t respond immediately, they drive in silence for a while, and as Neil takes long slow drags of the cigarette, he feels the knot of tension tightening in his stomach.

Neil is a natural liar, it’s what he has been taught to be: with Chris and Stefan constantly prompting him, refining his lies, polishing his facade, he trades half lies for whole truth, its how his business works.

He hasn’t been sent to kill Seth, he has come here of his own accord: it turns out that when Riko Moriyama found out that Neil had been offered a contract from the Foxes, he ‘let it slip’ that Neil is the son of the Butcher of Baltimore –

(In truth, Nathaniel is the son of the Butcher of Baltimore: Neil doesn’t have parents, but people don’t usually understand that, so he doesn’t bother correcting them.)

\- to the Foxes’ least stable team member: Brian Seth Gordon, the one who is most likely to lose control the fastest. Now Neil has no choice but to deal with the mess before anybody else finds out.

“What about Kevin?” Minyard asks, eyes fixed upon the road.

“What about Kevin?” Neil repeats. “I don’t care about Kevin.”

Minyard only hums in response, and they sit in silence for the rest of the drive until Minyard pulls up to a sidewalk where three people are waiting, and Neil says, “Minyard,” before the blond can get out of the car.

Minyard turns to look at him, and there is something about the scrutiny of his stare which makes Neil feel light-headed. “We could help each other,” he continues, and when Minyard only raises an eyebrow in response, he says, “Seth is causing problems for your people and mine. We could help each other.” 

They wait for a moment. A beat of silence.

“I’ll think about it,” is all that Minyard says before he leaves the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title credits go to Fucked My Way Up To The Top by Lana Del Rey


	3. Heaven is my baby, suicide's her father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew's pov, parallel to Neil's first time on court.
> 
>  _All for freedom and for pleasure_  
>  _Nothing ever lasts forever_  
>  _Everybody wants to rule the world_  
>  ~ Everybody Wants to Rule the World, Tears for Fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: self-harm, memories of Drake, implied child abuse.

You stand outside the orange cage with your fellow monsters and the intruder. You hear them talking. You don’t talk.

You blink. There’s another you, he's pure and devoid of scars. You blink again. He's gone. He didn’t take your knives.

You walk into the cage last. They’re talking again. This time you’re listening.

“Welcome to the Foyer,” Nicky says to the intruder. You wonder what they gain from romanticizing the prison.

You straddle an orange bench. Your hands are shaking. Drugs drugs _drugs_.

The boy has a 2 on his cheek. You blink. You are clutching pills and a bottle of whisky in your shaking hands. You blink again. Where did the pills go? You’re about to ask for more. Your hands have stopped shaking. You don’t ask for more.

You blink. Your mirror-image is back. There’s smudged lipstick on his neck. It’s red. You wonder if it was a kiss or a bruise. You wonder why he doesn’t let you protect him.

You blink. He’s gone.

You feel a manic smile tugging at your lips. You try to claw it off. It doesn’t work. It never works. It cracks your face open, breaking you, revealing you. You hate it all. You begin to laugh. Your shoulders shake. You throw your head back. You cackle some more. You don’t try to stifle the laughter. It doesn’t work. It never works.

You step forwards. The buzz of the drugs set your nerves on fire. Someone is laughing, you want to tell them to stop but your mouth isn’t working. You stumble through the smoke of your memories. You’re on a couch in the lounge. You clutch the whisky in your hands. Alcohol burns down your throat.

You push down your armbands. There are scars on your wrists: some old, some new, all of them self-inflicted. You balance a knife on your fingertip. Your watch how it catches the light and sets on fire.

You fall into the flames. He has his hands on you, exploring you, finding you. You don’t want to be found, not by him, not by anyone. He’s saying your name. His voice is deep and amused, just like how you remember it. _AJ_ , that’s what he calls you. Someone is laughing again. He has his hands on your wrists, fingers digging into the scars, _you like playing with knives, don’t you AJ._ You open your mouth to scream. Whisky is running down your throat.

You don’t remember closing your eyes. You open them and you’re back in the lounge. Bee’s voice tells you to take deep breaths. You don’t take deep breaths. You hear the laughing. You press your hands against the drug-induced smile.

You look back at your wrist. There are more scars.

You hear the laughing again, and this time you realize that it’s you.

"Minyard."

You stop laughing. 

You turn around, and there he is, the intruder, with his sharp cheekbones and perfect jawline.

"We need to talk," he says, and you start laughing again.

This time you don't stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title credits Body Electric by Lana Del Rey


	4. I know if I go, I'll die happy tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You never liked the way I said it  
>  If you don't get it, then forget it  
> So I don't have to fucking explain it_  
> ~ Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: memories of drake is a warning in itself, sexual stuff towards the end, nothing explicit, mental breakdowns, being drugged against your will etc.

“You should know better than to come looking for me, trespasser,” you croon with a soft smile on your lips. 

You blink. The intruder is closer now. You step backwards, then realize how weak it makes you look and take two steps forwards. The intruder is grinning now. You bare your teeth at him. Wolf. Beast. Savage. They call you inhumane so you show them who the true monster is.

_(Now they don’t dare say your name)_

“I’m not an intruder,” he corrects. “In case you’ve forgotten, I have a contract, handpicked by your . . . pet.”

Pet. You blink. You feel hot lips against your ear. Something presses against your temple. Maybe an empyrean halo. Maybe the phantom of a bullet. _Come on pet, I’ll show you a good time . . . Cass is all for our brotherly bonding, don’t want to let her down now, do we? Do we, pet? AJ?_

You blink. You’re back in the lounge. Sunlight glares into your eyes, blinding you from the threat at hand. A bullet big enough to destroy the fucking sun would be nice. 

“Trust me, kitten, I never forget,” you flash him a wicked smile and step forwards.

( _You can still taste your blood burning at the back of your throat,_ _the pomegranate juice stains your wrists and tastes acrid sour it tastes like those lies that they fed you like those lies those lies those lies)_

“Kitten? You’re giving me pet names,that’s cute,” the intruder grins and steps forwards. This time you hold your ground. You blink. He’s too close. “But I’m not here to get kinky. My business proposal. What do you think, Minyard?”

 _Flirting with a monster is a good way to get yourself killed._ “It’s simple, kitten, I don’t trust you,” you lean forwards. Your noses are almost touching. His eyes are car-crash blue. You tilt your head to the side. You breathe against his lips. Too close. “This is a big bad world full of wolves, Neil Josten, and you are a rabbit hiding in plain sight. Are you stupid, or do you want to be bitten so badly.”

You blink. The intruder is closer. You count the freckles on his nose. His hair is too curly. His eyelashes are too long. “Not gonna lie, that’s also kinda kinky,” he murmurs. “You can bite me all you want, if you’re offering.”

You push him away. He stumbles. He’s smirking. You shiver.

“What is it, Minyard?” the intruder taunts. “Scared? Of what? The pretty boy’s flirting?” He giggles, the sound is nuclear. Celestial wonders explode behind your eyes.

Dizziness. It hits you. The electricity coursing through your body is replaced with slow thick syrup. You are the hot and cold taps turned on all at once. The floor is too close. Your vision blurs. The intruder is too close he’s breaking in he’s breaking in he’s breaking in he's breaking-

“Andrew baby, you should know better than to try intimidate me,” the trespasser mocks, his honeycomb lips dangerously close to your own and you can almost taste the sickly sweet lies spun off of them.

Your perception is veiled with diamond dust which at once magnifies and distorts everything.You blink. You blink again. Static electricity knows the darkness of your body intimately and it thrives. Your thoughts are like smoke and they slip out of your fingers easier and easier each time you grasp for them until your falling falling _falling._

_It was completely accidental, AJ, you know that right? The pills just fell into your orange juice. You know that, right AJ? AJ . . ._

The steady siren of alarm bells fill your ears. Everything is too close yet so distant. You’re sat on the floor. The intruder is sat cross-legged on your ankles. 

You blink. Drugged. The intruder drugged you.

You try to reach for your knives. Your hands don’t cooperate. Helplessness. It consumes you and you inhale lungfuls of frigid pond water and you’re drowning and you’ve fallen back into that bed back with them over you and you’re burning burning _burning._

“You won’t last two hours here, kitten,” you slur. 

“Oh, baby, I will,” he strokes your inner thigh and your pulse jumps threatening to break out of this fragile body and escape escape escape esca-

“When I touch you your masks will crumble and I will destroy the man underneath it all,” you spit at him. “I will destroy you and any kind of hope that fucking paper contract has ignited within you. That is not a threat, it’s a promise.”

He leans forwards. “Go for it baby,” he whispers against your ear. “Where will you touch me first,?” He picks up your hand and places it against his chest, “here?” He moves your arm further down over his stomach, “or here?” Then further down until your hand is pressed against his crotch. “Or here, baby?” He presses your hand harder against his crotch and leans into it. “Hmm, baby? Where will you touch me first?”

He’s half-hard. He realizes you’ve realized it the moment you do and he smirks.

“What, kitten, is this the kind of shit that turns you on?” you ask, the words sour in your mouth.

The intruder snickers and rocks his hip forwards, pressing your hand harder against his crotch, throwing his head back and letting out a moan of pleasure.

“And what kind of shit turns you on, baby?” he whispers, a smile toying on his lips.

“I don’t understand you, Neil Josten,” you say whilst the world spins and threatens to swallow you whole.

“Call me kitten, baby, I insist,” the intruder says, then after a moment, “I’m not a maths problem.”

“I’ll solve you anyways,” you promise.

“Shitty pick up line, baby, but don’t worry, it’s hot.”

You blink. The darkness engulfs you the moment you feel those velvety lips against you own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title credits go to Summertime Sadness by Lana Del Rey


End file.
